Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours
by SteneMichele
Summary: The term "Welcome to the 60's" has never meant so much to Edward until he meets Charlotte Shea. Charlotte is everything that Bella is not; she is an artist. Though old enough to be Bella's grandmother, Charlotte and Bella do share one thing; Edward.
1. Love Is Like Wildflowers

The wrapper of the fortune cookie fluttered to the linoleum before settling there. I ignored it, instantly fracturing the cookie into two neat pieces. With enthusiasm that probably had people at other tables dubbing me an outcast, I pulled out the small piece of white paper inside and flattened it out.

_Love is like wildflowers...it is often found in the most unlikely places._

I let out a short laugh and threw it across the table to Mary. She glanced down at it and cast me a light-hearted, flirtatious wink. I rolled my eyes in response and sighed, resting my chin on my palm.

I _always _received romantic messages in my fortune cookies, but the truth was, I was the least lovable person. Not 'lovable' in the way that your parents love you; a lot of people did love me. But it was just my luck that nobody was _in _love with me. I was going to be seventeen next month, and I had never had a real boyfriend. It was as if there was fluorescent sticky note on my forehead reading "WARNING: THOSE OF OPPOSITE SEX- DO NOT APPROACH".

The odd thing was, I never really _had _wanted a boyfriend. I was just sick of all of the fortune cookies and hints from my friends that there might be a boy in their history class who I would like. Mary brought me out of my reverie by tapping me on my wrist.

"Charlotte, diners are 'unlikely places'," she hinted, casting a profound look to a large table in the corner of the room where a half a dozen boys were chucking broccoli at each other, "Maybe you could do one of those things that you do- like walking over there and accidentally tripping and falling into one of their laps?" I snorted into my Coca Cola, covering my mouth in horror.

"Jesus, Molly," I retorted, "That's really _subtle_." Mary shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

"Unless you have any better ideas?" she prompted, tilting her head to the side. I rolled my eyes and swallowed.

"No, Mary, that's just it," I snapped, "I don't have any ideas, and I don't want any. Fortune cookies are a bunch of garbage anyway." Mary reached across the table and dropped _her _fortune into my hand.

_"When it comes to the night life, you excel. Use this to your advantage tonight."_

I scoffed, rolled it up into a little ball and chucked it at her.

"Well at least they got yours right," I pointed out. Mary smiled, but the corners of her mouth turned downwards after a second.

"Do you think it means that I will meet somebody tonight?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Maybe," I offered patronizingly. My closest friend closed her eyes dramatically, laying her hand on the table and clearly counting to ten.

"What are you doing?" I asked exasperatedly. She tapped her left ring finger.

"When I get to ten," she explained, "The boy of my dreams will walk through that door." I blinked in shock, turning halfway around in my chair. There was nobody in the parking lot.

"Nine..." I heard Mary mutter, "Ten." Her eyes flew open with anticipation, only to fall down again. Nobody had entered.

And then the door flew open, and both of our jaws dropped.

"Twelve works, too," Mary whispered in awe. I nodded, completely dumb-founded.

Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful boy that I had ever seen. He had bronze-colored hair that stuck up in the most asymmetrical way that only a boy as handsome as he could pull off. His eyes were a strange topaz color, and his skin was almost translucent. He had raindrops sparkling on his face as he took of his coat and said something to the mesmerized Asian hostess.

"Do you see him?" Mary demanded, shaking my bony wrist in her hand.

"Yes," I breathed, stiffening as he walked by us, two feet away. We watched conspicuously as he took a seat in the back next to a pretty woman with soft features and caramel-colored hair who had arrived several minutes ago.

"Are they _together_?" Mary demanded in horror. I considered this.

"I don't think so," I decided, "He nodded to her without smiling. Maybe she's a relative? They both are really pale, and her hair is almost the same color..." Mary seemed comforted by my thinking, so she agreed.

"Yes, their eyes are the same," she established, as if that made everything clear, "She's his older sister." I smiled consolingly, and we both nodded, resuming our meals.


	2. I Don't Bite

Mary and I left the diner before dark, obeying our parents' wishes. They had told us to wait inside, but Mary had seen several boys in her literature class in front of the new radio station next door. My mother disliked these boys- she called them "beatniks"- so I stood under the awning and watched as Mary walked towards them, hitching her skirt up several inches too many and inconspicuously pinched her cheeks.

I shook my head knowingly and closed my eyes, pulling my cardigan tighter around my chest. I began humming my favorite tune, "With My Eyes Wide Open, I'm Dreaming" by Patti Page. Abruptly, the restaurant door flew open. I jumped, catching the low heel of my shoe on my skirt and falling backwards. My hands were wrapped up in my cardigan, so I closed my eyes as I fell.

But the ground was closer than I had thought. And a lot smoother. In shock, my eyes flew open. Three inches from my face were the most beautiful pair of eyes that I had ever seen. It was him- the bronze-haired boy from the restaurant- and he had his arm around me less than a foot from the ground. I inhaled sharply, steadying myself and backing out of his clutch. He watched me intently as I smoothed out my dress and pulled a stray lock of light red hair behind my ear, clearly flustered.

"Oh, er- thank you," I stammered, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. The strange boy put his hands in his pockets and furrowed his brow. I tried to figure out whether or not he was scrutinizing my appearance or concerned for my ability to stay on my feet. Most likely due to wishful thinking, I decided on the later.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, in a voice that made my heart melt like warm butter. I looked down at my arm, where a small streak of blood was dripping, and nodded.

"Yes, thank you again," I whispered meekly, trying to pull down my cardigan sleeve to cover up the cut. I knew I should have listened to my mother when she told me to wear long sleeves.

"Would you like a bandage?" the boy asked stiffly, grimacing as the blood seeped through the thin fabric at my elbow. I blushed redder and took a step backwards, shaking my head.

"Oh, no thank you," I replied, feeling extremely dim-witted, "I was- I should be going home." I began to turn around, but then I felt something cold on my shoulder. I let out an embarrassing gasp as I realized that it was the boy's hand.

"Are you walking alone?" he asked tentatively. I felt my jaw waver, but I managed to keep a somewhat steady face.

"N-no," I responded quietly, "My friend is talking to- to the people over there." I glanced over, trying to make eye contact with Mary. It was quite difficult, however, because the boy's eyes were burrowing into mine as if he could read me like a book.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" the boy persisted. I had imagined it. _I had imagined it._ But now he was waiting for my answer, and I had to speak.

"I have to make sure my friend can get home," I explained. The boy's eyes followed my gaze to Mary, who was holding one of the beatnik's hands. The boy and I both looked away, simultaneously realizing that Mary would be there for a while. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then he stuck out his ghostly hand.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he said politely, as the frigidness of his hand sent chills up my spine, "You're Charlotte Shea." I blinked in shock; I had never seen this boy before, and yet he knew my name. I would be a bit uneasy if anybody else had said this, but it was hard to be disturbed by somebody so beautiful.

"I'm sorry, but how do you know my name?" I asked instinctively, only curious.

"My brother Emmett was deported to North Korea last October," he explained, without missing a beat, "I believe he served under your father." I blinked, shocked that he had known this.

"Yes," I confirmed, "My father is General O'Shea. They've been stationed in South Korea for the past couple of weeks, though." Edward nodded, staring off towards the main road.

"Yes, I heard," he sighed.

"Why didn't you join the service?" I asked. I had been raised in a military family, so my father had instilled in me at an early age that it was a man's duty to serve his country. Edward merely chuckled at my presumption, his topaz eyes gleaming with amusement.

"My brother was always the fighter," he clarified, "Me- I suppose you could say that I am the musician." I was taken aback by this declaration; in the five minutes that I had known him, he had always seemed like someone who beat up the bad guys and defended the innocent. Then again, my mother always did say that my imagination rivaled some of the most creative in Hollywood.

Edward laughed at something that I didn't see, so I looked up and cast him a quizzical look. He shook his head defiantly.

"Nothing, nothing," he muttered, and then reclaimed himself and looked into my eyes, stealing my breath, "So how about that walk home?" I bit my lip awkwardly, tentative to accept his offer.

"I don't know," I murmured truthfully. He smirked, overwhelming me with his sensational eyes.

"I promise I don't bite," he said, so softly that I wondered if he had actually said it. I looked down, unwilling to be completely captivated by his gaze.

"I suppose…" I decided, losing all faith in my will power. Edward didn't hesitate before spinning on his heels and walking slowly, waiting for me to catch up.

"Good," he said simply, "It's a nice night for a stroll."


	3. Peacocks and Mountain Lions

I normally could have arrived home in fifteen minutes, but Edward insisted on taking the long way so that we could steer clear of the woods. Normally I did not walk around at night with strange men, but there was something benign about Edward… as if he would never hurt me.

For the most part, he asked me questions about every aspect of my life. I tried my best to be funny and charming, but my answers normally came out quite stupid.

"What is your favorite animal?" Edward asked. This question had stopped me in my tracks. My favorite animal? Normally I would have said something like bunnies, but I figured that my cliché responses were beginning to bore him.

"I like… peacocks?" I replied, trying to hide my blush. Edward let out a soft laugh.

"That's interesting," he mentioned, "And why do you like peacocks?" I considered this. Nobody had ever asked me why I liked peacocks. In fact, I had not known that I liked peacocks until about two seconds ago.

"They're so graceful," I explained honestly, "And they walk with this grace and poise. They're so sure of themselves, but at the same time… they're not arrogant at all." I fell quiet, turning red at my awkward truthfulness. Edward was silent for a minute, but then he stopped walking and turned around to face me.

"Are you an artist?" he inquired. I was beginning to learn to take everything with ease; his questions had no pattern that I could see, and they never made any sense in conversation.

"Sort of," I admitted, "I love to paint. It's the only thing in this world that I feel like I was born to do. Well, and dance." I shrugged, letting the topic rest there. No such luck.

"I knew you were an artist," Edward explained simply, "And I suppose I pegged you as a dancer."

"Why is that?" I inquired, running my hand through my strawberry blonde hair. Edward stiffened for some reason that I couldn't see, but then he exhaled and closed his eyes.

"The way you walk," he clarified, and then he turned to me with a slight smirk on his face, "I guess you could say that you walk with the grace of a peacock." I smiled at him, not blushing at all this time.

"That's nice," I murmured, staring down at my penny loafers. Edward walked quietly for the next minute, staring up at the sky. He seemed to be studying the constellations, so I put my hands in my coat pocket and looked up at the stars as well.

"Are you a fan of astronomy?" he asked, after a couple of minutes of star-gazing. I sighed and glanced at the forest.

"Not astronomy, really," I answered, "I'm a fan of the nighttime. I like it when nobody can see you." It was surprisingly easy to talk with Edward. He seemed genuinely interested in my responses, unlike most of the beatniks that Mary set me up with.

"Why would you want nobody to see you?" Edward inquired, squinting his eyes at me. "If you're a dancer then you must be used to being in the limelight." I waved my hand airily, letting my bracelet fall down to my elbow.

"On the stage, I'm wearing make-up and a costume," I pointed out, "My mother curls my hair and makes it elegant, but other than that… I'm not really anything to look at." It was true. I was scrawny and my light red hair hung long and mostly straight down to the small of my back. I had light sapphire eyes, but they were much too big for my face. Mary also insisted that I applied lemon juice to my cheeks every night, to get rid of the scattered freckles that I had across the bridge of my nose.

"I think you're wrong," Edward muttered quietly. For the first time in ten minutes, he made me blush again.

"Thank you," I replied softly, avoiding his gaze, "So what about you?" Edward turned towards me, startled.

"What about me?" he repeated, confused. I nodded.

"Your favorite animal?" I asked. Comprehension filled his face as he considered my question.

"I would have to say a mountain lion," he admitted. I stifled a giggle.

"And I though 'peacocks' was a bizarre answer," I mentioned. Edward shrugged, smiling along with me.

"Mountain lions are fast," he added, "And fierce."

"I suppose your right," I agreed, as we turned onto my street. I considered lying to him and telling him that my house was five blocks away, just so that I could walk with him, but he would know.

"So, Charlotte," Edward muttered, annunciating each syllable of my name, "It was nice meeting you. I expect I'll see you again. I believe that I've seen you at church; will you be attending the spring formal next week?" I smiled at him, nodding.

"I haven't seen you there," I pointed out. I would have recognized him if we had ever met at church before.

"My family keeps to themselves," Edward explained as I stopped at my driveway. I could see a light on in my living room; my parents would be waiting for me to come home.

"Thank you for walking me," I said, as Edward bowed his head politely.

"My pleasure," he replied, and then he was gone into the night.


	4. Innocent Intentions

The church cellar was garlanded with shoddy streamers and filled with the sound of Doo Wop music. Mary was pinching my elbow excitedly, dressed in a frilly fuchsia dress with her hair piled like a beehive on top of her head. I probably looked dreary next to her in my black silk dress, but I would have felt uncomfortable in anything else. I had even patronized my mother as she had curled my hair, and that had certainly taken its toll on my nightly supply of patience.

Mary immediately set off for the dance floor, eyeing the latest boy to have caught her eye. Though I was a natural dancer, I hovered to the side for a while. After several minutes of people-watching, I recognized two of my brothers amidst a group of rowdy boys. Ah; that was where the whiskey smell was coming from. I tried not to look that much like my mother as I marched over there and grabbed Teddy by his muscular arm.

"Jesus, Ted," I groaned, grimacing at his bloodshot eyes. "Must you always be the one to cause trouble?" My brother guffawed, rolling his watery eyes.

"Like you've never wreaked any havoc, Miss Charlotte?" he teased, elbowing me gently. I cast him a confused grin, rolling my eyes in return.

"Oy, Char!" Bobby shouted, though I was standing right next to him. "There's a boy who been looking for you. Just a minute… a minute or two ago." My smile wiped off my face and my heart skipped a beat.

"A- a boy?" I repeated, searching the crowd desperately. Bobby snorted.

"I could tell right 'way, Char," he muttered. "This ain't no church boy that our mother would 'prove of, that's for sure." Bobby grinned, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Now why don't you loosen up and take a shot, kiddo?" I scrunched my nose up, looking over my shoulder as my twin brother shoved a foul-smelling drink under my nose.

"Leave the sis alone, Bob," Teddy defended me, mussing up my hair. I pushed him away, hurrying across the room to grab some water. I hated alcohol; it always brought out the worst in the men in my family. Even Teddy could get a little boisterous after several drinks.

After I had downed several glasses of water, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"I do not want your booze, Bobby Shea," I snapped, spinning around. _Damn it._

"Charlotte," Edward muttered, inclining his head politely. I blushed, tossing my empty glass onto the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I… I thought you were my brother. I didn't mean-" Stop blubbering, Charlotte. Edward laughed at something that I couldn't see, making me swoon.

"You look lovely," he muttered, pinching one of my honey-colored curls between his thumb and index finger. I looked towards the floor, electrically shocked by his touch. I had not expected him to come near me. Subconsciously, I had imagined him ignoring me the whole night and, when I finally approached me, introducing me to his beautiful girlfriend who happened to have five years and five inches on me.

"You don't seem yourself," Edward mentioned. I gulped, pushing the curl that he had just touched behind my ear.

"You don't know 'myself'," I retorted, though I regretted it as soon as it left my mouth. It made me sad. Suddenly, I was overcome with a passionate desire to know everything about him, and for him to know everything about _me._

Suddenly, Edward dropped his hand to his side where he balled them up into fists, his tendons protruding a centimeter from his frosty white skin. I automatically took a step back, giving myself up to instinct.

"Did I say something?" I demanded shortly. Edward shook his head, looking somewhere over my head. I turned around, following his gaze, but his hand was suddenly on my cheek. I jumped slightly, instantly renewing the crimson color in my cheeks.

"No," Edward corrected me. "You didn't say anything. But you're wrong. I _do _know you. Much better than you think." I let out a sigh of relief, but was still quite bemused.

"I've only talked to you that one night," I reminded him. Edward frowned, but the corners of his mouth were turned upwards as if he were fighting a grin.

"Yes," he agreed, "but you can tell a lot about a person from their favorite animal." He winked at me, leaving me completely bewildered. It took all of my effort to stay standing still as he walked away. I watched as he paused in the doorway towards the outdoor stairs, and his head turned around slightly. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn that I saw him jerk his head as if indicating that I should follow him. The music made my head spin, and I did need some fresh air. For a split second, I stood completely still. And then I followed Edward outside into the warm summer breeze.


	5. What Are Your Theories?

It was dark outside, the only light radiating from the disco balls inside. Edward was somehow standing twenty feet away next to a rundown Nativity scene, though I was pretty sure that I had been only a yard or two behind him. I shrugged this thought off, pulling my cardigan tighter around me as I approached him. His eyes were on the sky the whole time.

When I reached him, there were three feet between us. He did not seem to notice me there, so I simply stood there and pretended to be admiring the stars. As I had predicted, he was silent for eternity. But when he _did _speak, I jumped out of my reverie at once.

"I don't really enjoy parties," he admitted, almost vulnerably. "Do you?" I bit my bottom lip, shrugging. Sometimes I was under the impression that he was planning on writing my biography.

"They're not all that horrible," I replied tentatively, glancing back inside. Edward blinked in shock, obviously expecting a different answer. Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You're lying," he pointed out, and I blushed. At the same time, I was angry. He was right; the only reason that I came was for my mother's dream of me being a socialite like her. As if reading my mind, Edward added, "You take great pleasure in pleasing your parents. That's why your hair is curled, and that's why you refused that beer in there."

"How do you always do that?" I demanded, turning around to face him. He smirked, melting my unwilling heart.

"Do what?" he countered, making me scoff.

"You know damn well _'what'_," I snapped, though I instantly regretted it. I did not like upsetting him.

"Are you referring to your predictability?" he teased. "Because in that case it's _you're _fault, not mine." I rolled my eyes, clucking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

"Is that why you asked me to come outside?" I whispered softly, deciding that guilt might soften him up a bit. "To ridicule my motives?" Edward smiled crookedly, forcing me to look away.

"No," he answered simply. I turned towards him, furrowing my brow as I waited for an explanation. He simply stared off at the constellation, focusing on Orion. I followed his gaze, trying to focus on the stars. This didn't work out too well.

"Seriously," I sighed, staring at his jaw line until his eyes met mine, "How _do _you do it?" Edward cocked an eyebrow.

"I'd like to hear your theories first," he challenged, and I set my jaw.

"Fine," I began. "My first one is that you're a Soviet spy. You've singled me out because of my father's position in the army." To my embarrassment, Edward let out a loud laugh. Just hearing him chuckle made me grin, though I made a great effort to hide it.

"That's your first theory?" he confirmed, clearly patronizing me. "In that case, would you mind if I took you back to the P.O.W. camp and held you hostage?" I shook my head, playing along.

"Go ahead," I joked, "but then you won't get to hear my second theory." Edward sighed, leaning against the burlap awning of the Nativity scene and smiling.

"Tell me," he surrendered. "I guess there won't be any P.O.W. action." I stuck my jaw in the air.

"Certainly not," I confirmed. "But theory two might possibly involve some trouble with the law. You see, I have this hypothesis that you're a stalker. I'm not sure what type, exactly, but it definitely involved some illegal activity. What do you say to that?" Edward shrugged.

"That's sound legitimate," he replied, "but you're wrong. Any others?" I considered this. The honest answer was 'yes', but I could not bring myself to admit it.

"Maybe... just idiotic ideas though," I blurted out.

"And 'stalker' and 'war spy' don't qualify as idiotic ideas?" Edward countered, winking at me. I blushed, glancing down at my hands.

"Well, I've considered wizard, fortune teller, vampire, mind-reader and... just a good people-reader?" I muttered, all in one breath. I expected Edward to laugh again, but he was quite solemn.

"Why?" he demanded. I shrugged, slightly frightened by his sudden abruptness.

"Well you seem to know what people are thinking..." I answered, sounding quite foolish.

"No," Edward snapped, shaking his head impatiently. "Why '_vampire'_? Vampires can't read minds." I laughed, buttoning my cardigan.

"'_Vampires can't read minds'_?" I repeated, dumbfounded, "How about '_Vampires don't exist at all'. _You can't define things that are not even _real_." Edward frowned, considering this.

"I suppose so," he agreed slowly, "But it's still a theory of yours?" I shrugged.

"Not the dominant one. I like the whole Prisoner of War idea, honestly." Edward laughed, sending chills up my spine.

"I'll let you go back inside," he offered, and my heart failed. True, I could hear my favorite song playing from the church basement, but I did not want to share him with anybody else; it was honestly miraculous that nobody else had claimed him yet.

But I was completely helpless as he led me back to the party, his ghostly hand cold on my elbow and his topaz eyes warm on face.


End file.
